‘Scarlett and her Seductive Ladies of Magic’

Scarlett and her Seductive Ladies of Magic." They're so ... 2005.

The Riviera late show is among a recent, inexplicable flood of low-budget titles. They all seem to pretend everything is fine on the Strip and that Cirque du Soleil and Bette Midler aren't running discounts to get people through the door.

In the good old days, a little show could get by if it worked backward from a system for selling tickets: Throwing huge commissions to sales agents or teaming up with time-share developers to offer rewards for sitting through a sales pitch.

The show itself could slide as long as it met the minimum daily requirements: Here, a cute magician, a little dog dressed as Elvis and two sets of bare breasts (the Seductive Ladies, who go topless to give viewers a choice between "natural" or "implants," but make for some lopsided staging).

Tourists who see maybe one live show a year would be OK with it. Scarlett's a big star, right? Must be, if she has her picture on billboards and stands on the stage where Frank Sinatra once sang (so did an alligator wrestler in "Splash," but that's another story).

But now, Tahiti Village and other time-shares are on the financial skids. For that matter, so is the Riv. A-list shows are discounting like mad. And Scarlett still seems so ... 1989.

That's the era in which "Melinda -- The First Lady of Magic" bounced from one small venue to another with a little "e-for-effort" revue that was appealing in its determination, even if it came off as a high-school version of a "real" Vegas show. Melinda kept at it, and eventually had a successful run at The Venetian in 2000.

Scarlett's future could hold the same. But for now, she's early Melinda in her stiff stage mannerisms and overly memorized recitations to the audience. Two basic fundamentals of a magic show are neglected.

The first is that it has to be about the magician more than the illusions. We learn the young star is from Reno and that she loves "handsome men," and that's about it. There's no real rapport.

The second is that stage illusions have to involve storytelling, or they're just contraptions. Without any buildup, it generates little excitement to see an illusion -- sold on the Internet as "Compressed" -- in which the magician is cranked into a trash-masher cube of head and feet.

Slicker magicians say funny stuff when they work an old staple, a shell game of multiplying liquor bottles. Scarlett dresses up like Betty Boop and speaks not a word as she shuffles bottles.

A girl's gotta use her charms. Fortunately for Scarlett, magic is still so ... 1996.

That's the year Melinda's mom, Bonnie Saxe, had a bitter split with her daughter and opened "Showgirls of Magic." The title played upon the sexist novelty of female magicians in a field where women remain a small minority.

A gender-blind female magician who doesn't flash a lot of leg is an interesting concept. But until that day, sex appeal at least livens up an almost-funny bit with Scarlett in a lab coat, and a silent segment with the familiar "dancing hanky."

Scarlett has toned up from last summer's run at the V Theater and knows how to work a bikini. It does add a dramatic fragility to the only memorable illusion, a climactic escape where she's shackled upside down in a tank of water.

The star gets welcome relief in a 20-minute guest spot by Max Clever, who is also a magician (he once got a makeover on Bravo's "Queer Eye"). But he can't do magic here, probably because he would be smoother and funnier than the star. That leaves him pet tricks with a cockatoo and the little Elvis dog, Jo Jo.

Clever used to headline "Viva Las Vegas," an afternoon revue that generated casino traffic by selling tickets for $11. That would seem like a fine idea for this one, too. Admittedly, it would be selling a show with a business plan instead of the merits of its content. Never thought I'd be nostalgic for those days.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@ reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.